


Amour - Love

by australia_mate



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Français | French, Gentle Sex, Gibson's Real Name Is Philippe Hugo Guillet, Google Translate don't fail me now, Language Barrier, Learning English, Light Angst, M/M, Making Love, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Triggers, World War II, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27153176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/australia_mate/pseuds/australia_mate
Summary: "W-What?""Yes, I love you." He repeated seriously, mouth sweet with truth.Tommy felt his eyes water and he formed a smile, yet through his nerves, it went shaky. "I-I... God, Philippe, I loveyou."---Where Tommy doesn't understand 'je t'aime' and Philippe doesn't understand 'i love you', until they do.
Relationships: Gibson/Tommy (Dunkirk)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	Amour - Love

The first thing, apart from getting off the train, going through checkups, and Tommy fumbling through a 'you can stay with me' to Gibson while bidding a see you soon to Alex, was buying a dictionary. The chances of guessing correctly as to what Gibson meant through his french weren't consistent enough, now that there wasn't a constant adrenaline and hum of aeroplanes above their heads filling in their silences and stares. 

The language barrier was much more noticeable once they settled into the flat together, so Tommy took it upon himself to teaching Gibson bits of English each day, just enough to get by and to understand each other a bit more. 

Tommy went for names first, he knew Gibson wasn't actually _Gibson_ , and _Philippe_ was delighted in finally sharing his actual name; after that, it seemed like a weight had been lifted from the Frenchman's shoulders, like the guilt of posing as Gibson had finally left.

From there, it was easy enough. Tommy learnt that Philippe was 23, and he taught Philippe that he was 19. Tommy was anxious at first, but after a few minutes of choppy English from Philippe, he was glad to know that Philippe didn't mind with the gap. However, Philippe continuously asked throughout that day if he was okay with it, if he was okay with them, as the exact nature of their relationship wasn't quite clear.

They shared a few - _many_ \- kisses, and a few preciously secluded moments, but it was all rushed as the war demanded. And Philippe being the gentleman he was, took it into account that while the age difference wasn't much, he just had to be sure Tommy was okay with all this. So it was only through Tommy quickly clambering on top of him and doing all that they did before again, just this time with the knowledge of their ages, did Philippe truly relax, happy to know Tommy was okay with it. And after a few minutes basking in the afterglow, Philippe proposed the idea of being together, to which Tommy immediately said yes. The term boyfriends hung in the air, they knew what they were now, but they never said it.

From there, it grew. They grew into each other more, Philippe's English grew, they created routines, and in just a week of being discharged, life felt nearly _normal_. Such a privilege compared to what they both went through with the war. Under the roof of the flat, the war seemed insignificant, Tommy and Philippe doing everything to distract each other from it and their memories. 

They were on medical leave for another 3 weeks, Philippe had bad enough cuts on his chest and legs to be pulled aside with Tommy following before they'd have to return to the war. It was a very generous time frame, the nurse thought Philippe was worser off as he refused to speak; thinking he was having a mental breakdown.

Alex came over a quite a bit too and was planning to come over again in a few days. The first time sent Tommy's hands shaking, terrified if he and Philippe were too obvious - _they were men, what would Alex think?_ \- and if the two wouldn't be able to make amends with each other after what had happened on the boat. But once Philippe had, obviously in regret with not wanting to leave Tommy, left for the loo, Alex had leant forward, eyes glimmering mischief, asking how good the Frenchman was in bed. Tommy only sputtered in response, a dark red blush covering his face, but that was confirmation enough for Alex, who sat back smug with a smirk.

Philippe returned to Tommy holding his head in his hands, embarrassed beyond belief, and a chuckling Alex that only turned into a gut roaring laughter when he saw Philippe. He quickly stood and clapped the confused French on the back, congratulating him on getting such a good catch, making Tommy blush more and Philippe cheekily grin once he understood what was going on. 

So that cleared up if all was good between the two, and the rest of the night went well, if a bit stiff, as the war still loomed heavily above their heads. But for the first time they 'hung out' - _sounded like they were innocent kids all over again_ \- together without bullets and bombs raining from the sky, it was good.

And now, with the afternoon chill running throughout the air, Tommy was trying to teach Philippe a new word, who seemed to be at a rare stump. 

" _Je ne comprends pas_." Philippe stubbornly grumbled, running a hand through his curly hair. "That's because you're not trying." Tommy countered, the expression not new to him to understand, yet smiled lightly. Philippe pursed his lips, adam's apple bobbing with his throat's constrictions at trying to form the alien vowels, "Leave?" 

"No, no, remember, it goes like," Tommy ran a finger across the dictionary's page, underneath the word 'love', while glancing to Philippe who bore a confused frown, " _Luh_ -ve. Not leeve, like you said. See- Go on, test it, _luhve_." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards seeing the Frenchman open and close his mouth repeatedly with nothing coming out, seeming to struggle in forming the English o. 

Though once Philippe noticed Tommy's amused expression he huffed and fell back into his chair, folding his arms, " _Je ne peux pas travailler avec toi en riant de moi!_ " He vented, shoving the English dictionary slightly, annoyed. 

"Hey," Tommy understood a bit, some words falling into place, shaking his head and scooting his chair closer to Philippe's, "I wasn't laughing at you. You'll get the hang of it, the o's I've heard are the hardest for you guys to pronounce." He didn't know if that was actually true, but it did look like it made Philippe feel better. 

All his words most likely went over Philippe's head but he knew the other understood enough with how he huffed again but through a smile. "S-Sorry." Philippe forced out with struggle and Tommy shook his head again, closing the dictionary. It sounded more like surri than sorry but he wouldn't say that. 

"Another time." He instead settled on and rested a hand comfortingly on the French's knee. 

Something caught Tommy's eye from behind Philippe, his heart jumping, and he looked out to the window behind him. The breath in his throat caught from how _blue_ the sky seemed. Too blue... His eyes widened and the fingers over Philippe's knee curled, tightened, as his mind was drawn to the equally too blue sky of Dunkirk. Small tremors started to take over his body and he choked out a gasp, eyes glazing. He couldn't be there again, no-

Philippe had been going for the dictionary when he felt the squeeze, the gasp, the sudden distress seeming to run through the air, and looked back to Tommy, dread settling in his eyes at seeing Tommy's faraway look. 

" _Chère?_ " Tommy couldn't tear his gaze from the clear **blueblueblue** sky outside the window, breathing quickened as he seemed to hear that thunder in the air- The planes, they were coming, _they were coming, Alex_ -

"Tommy!" _Philippe_. There were no rumble of planes, no danger, there was Philippe suddenly in the way of the blue blue sky, chair scraping back loudly from the French abruptly standing and crowding around in front of him. Two large hands weighed down on Tommy's shoulders and he desperately grounded himself on them, on the warmth seeping into his clothes and skin. 

It wasn't Dunkirk, wasn't the hyperthermia cold, no, it was Philippe, Philippe's familiar heat and worried etched face inches from his; _green_ eyes, _emerald_ eyes, deadly blue nonexistent. "Hey, hey, Tommy." Philippe whispered, squeezing his shoulders.

But Tommy felt his cheeks burn as he realised what just happened, he felt like a girl from the gasp that had escaped him, "P-Philippe, I'm so sorry-"

Philippe grunted his refute softly and bent down, their lips meeting in a caring, bright _orange_ , warm kiss that was nowhere near the cloudless blue that previously enveloped Tommy. No, it was now fire oranges and dandelion yellows scattering across his body, no seawater blue and all Tommy could do was melt into the too kind kiss, tremors returning but for the reason of being overcome with _love_.

These, these side effects, they were so confusing and at the start when they came home they didn't know what to do when it happened - _'happened', more like when it abruptly sent them into a panic_ -, but they were slowly growing into it. Relying on each other with problems only they and other people from the war could understand. 

"You o-okay, now?" Philippe carefully asked against his lips, gentle green eyes watching for any distress. Tommy fluttered at how French-accented the attempted English words were and all thoughts of Dunkirk dissipated as he focused on _Philippe_ , on Philippe's touch. "O-Okay now." He agreed quickly, and Philippe's frown disappeared into a smile Tommy could only reciprocate back.

"Okay now, long time!" Tommy laughed quietly at Philippe's attempt. It was very charming to the Brit, watching Philippe just try _so_ hard so they could communicate if only a _little_ bit better. "Okay now, forever." He corrected and Philippe blew out a breath, whispering a merci and a French dripped version of forever under his breath; smile widening.

Philippe sat back down, and scooted forward in his chair, legs now squished together slightly and Tommy realised that it was his constant reminder that he was here, safe, and at home. Pilippe's silent communication made his cheeks heat up, but he cleared his throat and followed Philippe's line of sight, scarred hands flattening out the pages to the dictionary. 

"Again." Philippe said determinedly, eyes now on Tommy, which made the younger's heart skip a beat.

Tommy smiled, pushing all the last dwellings over what just happened out from his mind, "A-Alright, well, this time, how about we split it up. Listen, okay? _Laaa_. Go, _laaa_." He wasn't the best teacher, and yes it did sound very stupid, but it was good enough in his opinion and Philippe seemed to agree from how excited he always was when they started each time. 

Philippe tried and blushed pink from how silly sounding it made him. "It's okay!" Tommy quickly swooped in with a slightly pulled smile from trying not to laugh, lest he offend the Frenchman, "So, now we try uve. _Uuve_."

And Philippe did, he sounded it out, mouth forming a small 'o' with his eyes lighting up from his progress. And before Tommy could say anything, Philippe slammed his hands down on the table excitedly, "Lave! Eh, _non_ , love," He repeated with a shake of his head, forcing to acknowledge his French accent and it to not be so prominent, but then paused, head cocking to the side confusedly.

" _Qu'est-ce que ça veut dire?_ " Tommy paused, elated from Philippe's success, hoping to piece together the Frenchman's need to revert to french but gritted his teeth as no connections came. "Gotta have to be more specific, I don't understand you." Philippe furrowed his eyebrows, jaw working as he thought of another way.

" _Signifier?_ Love, what _signifier?_ " Tommy was quick to piece it together this time, "Oh, what does love mean?" Philippe grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

"Hm.." Now, this was why Tommy had tried so hard getting Philippe to reading and recognising the word love. He wanted Philippe to understand what he said when he said 'I love you'. Tommy couldn't deny it anymore that what he felt towards the man was love, it flared at his heart at everything Philippe did or said; it also didn't matter that he was a man. Maybe it did to others and society, but it didn't matter to him.

"Love means..." What other words had he taught Philippe for him to understand? He looked down to the dictionary and read it's definition, 'an intense feeling of deep affection.', while starting to smile. 

He leant forward and surprised Philippe with a haste and shy kiss, "That's love." He whispered, caught up in Philippe's eyes that had just turned _so_ passionate, looking at him in a way no one had ever looked at him like. "Love is warm, it's vibrant. It's forever." He explained further, and Philippe grinned, eyes crinkling at the sides. These were expressions Tommy never saw in the war, at Dunkirk, and by God was he happy to see them now.

" _Je comprends maintenant._ " Tommy smiled, "Good." Philippe lifted his hand and placed it gently on Tommy's cheek, with eyes that seemed to be evaluating him differently now. "Love.." Philippe wondered. Tommy felt caught up, lips parting slightly and brushing up against Philippe's, something was happening and he only leaned more into the Frenchman's electrifying touch.

" _'_ I love you _' signifie que je t'aime_..." Philippe realised out-loud, and Tommy shuddered as his breath fanned over his neck and cheeks. The Brit tried to understand the new gleam in Philippe's eyes, like he had undergone a new profound revelation, but couldn't. 

They were close, and Tommy itched to be closer, but he waited. Something told him to wait, to stave off finally saying 'I love you' as Philippe would be able to understand him. "Philippe?" He asked tentatively after the prolonged silence, Philippe's green eyes foggy, seeming to be deep in the past. He fretted, wondering what gears were turning in the Frenchman's head. 

"You... You love me? _Tu m'aimes_ , like _amour?_ " Philippe asked loudly all of a sudden, eyes snapping clear to him as Tommy startled with the realisation that he was clicking together every moment he uttered the phrase. Every mumble, every shy whisper, every shout when they were so _close_. 

An embarrassed blush spread across Tommy's cheeks, biting the insides of his cheeks as he fell into a wild debate with himself on what to answer. "...Yes." He finally forced himself to answer, each passing silence making his head hurt, but immediately clenched his eyes shut like he confessed to a murder. 

He reeled away from Philippe, away from the hand he felt so dependent on, misinterpreting the Frenchman's minute gasp for disgust, instantly regretting the whole idea in teaching the man the word love; regretting ever thinking that the other felt the same. They were _men_ , the war was so tense and violent all that they did was to relieve that built-up tension, he was foolish for ever thinking Philippe felt the same. _This_ was taboo. _This_ was wrong. He made a mistake, he shouldn't of roped Philippe into this- 

Philippe made a confused noise, catching Tommy from his spiralling thoughts, heart yearning for his lover that seemed to be cautious of him. "I'm so-" "Tommy. _Ça va_ , I.." Philippe shook his head, interrupting his attempted apology. 

Tommy carefully looked back to him. He was apprehensive but Philippe hadn't run away yet - _why wasn't he running away?_ -, no, but he was looking at him with a face he didn't recognise.

"No, Tommy, I love you too. Do not fear." The soft uttered words crashed down into Tommy's world and he straightened, eyes wide, anxiety freezing in the way for shock. Philippe started to smile reassuringly, kneeling forward out from his chair and onto the ground right in front of Tommy to in between his legs, grasping his hands tightly while looking up to him through his curls. 

"W-What?" "Yes, I love you." He repeated seriously, mouth sweet with truth.

Tommy felt his eyes water and he formed a smile, yet through his nerves, it went shaky. "I-I... God, Philippe, I love you." He fell onto Philippe, arms wrapping around him desperately, tears starting to stream down his face from joy, jubilance, and disbelief. 

Philippe's caught off guard laughter filled the small room, and he quickly held the smaller securely on top of him, falling down onto the cold but safe hardwood floor. Nothing like the sands of Dunkirk.

"You love me!" Tommy giggled, holding himself upright on top of Philippe. " _Oui!_ I always, me saying _je t'aime_." Tommy's eyes widened that that was the french saying for I love you. He breathed an excited breath as he pieced together that Philippe had already been saying 'je t'aime' all this time. 

Their lips met in a slow and intense kiss, Philippe hugging Tommy tightly against him while craning his head up to meet Tommy. With first exploring each other, Tommy discovered that Philippe had a sort of obsession to his lips and mouth, always finding himself being kissed the living daylights out of when the opportunity arose. He wasn't complaining, though, Philippe always took his breath away and left him gasping for more. 

"I love you," Philippe continuously muttered like a prayer between the quick gaps in their lip lock, and Tommy felt so hot, no traces at all of icey Dunkirk, no remnants of bone-chilling waters; just bright roses like sun-kissed flowers through him. 

"I love you, too," Tommy immediately responded, confident in the phrase that he'd never get tired of hearing, kissing deeper against the wide grinning Philippe. He wasn't sure if it made it harder to kiss the Frenchman or made it better, but Tommy settled on not caring from the hand that suddenly rested in his hair, pulling him closer for a second. 

"W-Want..." Philippe pulled back, and Tommy caught himself from trying to follow him and looked back to him with fond and expecting eyes. Philippe cursed his English, frown forming. Tommy giggled, a sound Philippe found himself more and more reliant on hearing, "What?"

The Frenchman took a few seconds, sitting up carefully with having Tommy in his lap now, "Want to love you?" He tried, making Tommy blush darkly, and he frowned more, trying again in wording himself better. "Shh.." Tommy laughed, kissing Philippe's lips to shut the man up, "I get what you mean."

Philippe brightened, green doe eyes captivating Tommy, " _Oui?_ You do?" Why Philippe needed to switch between French and English made his head spin. "Yes. Want to love you too." He rolled his eyes, exasperate but affectionate. "I _love_ you." Philippe immediately said, hands gripping his sides carefully like he was glass, sounding so resolute Tommy let a few tears he was holding back fall down onto Philippe's shirt. He followed Philippe in getting up, letting himself be hoisted up into Philippe's arms with an excited laugh. 

Tommy quickly clutched onto Philippe's back and wrapped his legs around his waist, feeling the sinewy and strong muscles formed from the back-breaking work in the war. The power and strength Tommy could feel rippling out from underneath his fingertips made him shiver, knowing how controlled and cautious the Frenchman was being to his war cracked body. 

Philippe cupped Tommy's bum gently, keeping him gathered in his arms better as he pressed soft kisses all down his neck. Tommy sighed softly, closing his eyes and enjoying the attention, basking in being held so delicately. Philippe left open-mouthed kisses all over his fair skin, skin finally recovered from Dunkirk, teeth running along but never biting; making the Brit huff from how gentle he was. 

Philippe was never rough, was never hard or ever demanding; he was patient, kind, and understanding. In the war, they had to go quickly and fiercely, a nearly disappointing and unsatisfying pace, but it was all for clearing their heads so it didn't matter. Now, without the war and getting situated into a safer housing that allowed them to set their own pace, Tommy realised his fragile body made from the war wouldn't be able to handle any more roughness. All the injuries and bruises made him fear his skin would just rip if he moved incorrectly, and Philippe was just the perfect pace for him.

"Philippe..." Tommy breathed contentedly with what felt like a fire spreading across his skin, slightly rolling his hips against the Frenchman to try and convey what he wanted. "Tommy.." Philippe gasped against his skin, coming back up and meeting Tommy's eyes in a tender yet questioning gaze. Tommy smiled with exhilaration, nodding his consent, feeling Philippe's growing excitement against his thigh.

" _Mon petite, je t'aime tellement_." Tommy purred his pleasure and content quietly, realising Philippe was making his way to their bedroom while carrying him. The first night they had tried to sleep apart, which proved to be a great mistake, both seeking each other out for comfort and affection as the first waves of nightmares whirled against their minds. After that, they moved some stuff around and managed to get Tommy's room, which was the biggest, suitable for them. 

Philippe laid Tommy down onto the two singles pushed together made into one bed with the utmost of care, and hovered over him, his warmth transferring over to Tommy. Tommy wiped at his forehead shortly, back starting to sweat and body high in temperature, yet he tugged Philippe even closer on top of him with a quiet groan at his reassuring weight. 

A light pitter-patter started from outside, tapping against the window making Tommy flinch, body sweeped cold. Philippe's gaze softened with sympathy, but Tommy saw his flinch too, and he rested his forehead against Tommy's, whispering, " _Oh, mon petit, ça va. Je t'aime, tu es en sécurité_." "I-I know... I love you, too." Tommy shivered, war-torn mind telling him danger but eyes telling him safety in Philippe. 

"Philippe.." Tommy breathed in a shallow breath, trying to clear his mind and ignore the tapping - _shooting bullets_ \- against the bedroom window. Philippe went to move away, already ready to comfort him and to abandon their growing passion, but Tommy held him tight against him, "N-No, don't go. Never, please." He begged. Philippe's lips formed an understanding smile, and the Frenchman placed careful kisses all over his neck and face. 

" _Oui, je ne partirai jamais, ma chère_." He agreed between kisses and Tommy felt a surge of relief, shaking hands gripping at his stable sides. There was still that pitter-patter, but the rush of his heart at his ears and Philippe's French praise and promise was sound enough to distract him.

Philippe fixated on the one spot that suddenly made Tommy quiver below him with a harsh breath, scraping his teeth over the sensitive spot. Tommy bit down on his lips from making too much noise, everything feeling so good with Philippe's attentiveness, slapping a hand over his mouth so the pitiful sounds that did escape were muffled. Philippe pulled away from Tommy, lips wet and glistening in the room's light from their kerosene lamp hanging by the wall, sending Tommy into a fever; looking at him with a playful smile. 

" _Mais j'aime tes petits bruits_." Tommy blushed fiercely, wanting to stuff his face into the crook of Philippe's neck, "I know you do, but the neighbours, they'll hear.."

Philippe smirked, supporting his weight on his elbows and knees directly over the Brit, "Don't _care_. Tommy, I love you. Want to listen, your sounds." Then there were fingers just resting above his hips and the whine that escaped Tommy's lips flared his blush to his ears and made Philippe's smirk turn into a flustered grin. " _Mon oh mon, si joli tu vois? Je ne peux pas en avoir assez de toi_."

"Mm.." Tommy squirmed underneath Philippe, eyes wide and blown, coming undone so quickly, "Speak to me more." He asked, out of breath already. Philippe cocked an eyebrow, raising up and letting his hands still on hooking under his pants. " _En français?_ " Tommy nodded frantically, hands scrabbling for a hold on Philippe's sides as his body pulsed with want. Something was inebriating about not knowing what Philippe was exactly saying, but at the same time knowing _exactly_ what he was saying. 

" _Oh, ma chérie, tout pour toi_." Tommy shivered as his hands found purpose, moving off from Philippe and quickly tugging his shirt off; expectant eyes prompting Philippe to take off his own. Philippe was on Tommy in an instant, chest ready to claim under his lips and Tommy's body trembled; groans escaping the youngers lips from Philippe's mouth, sucking and barely biting against the skin, creating red love bites. 

" _Je t'aime, je t'aime tellement ma chérie. Tu es si mignonne_." Philippe mumbled against Tommy, voice vibrating across his skin, making Tommy scramble for his sanity as Philippe's tongue traced a deep scar just below his collarbone. 

Tommy raised a fist to his mouth to bite on yet forced himself not to, instead letting out his moan, and Philippe blushed, pleased. " _Tu es juste trop jolie, ma petite_." Philippe was so warm, his body radiated heat, and there were no more blue and purple bruises coating over his chest and shoulders. Now just scar ridden skin on his own scarred self. No more blue, no more Dunkirk, no more oily water, just him and Philippe.

And speaking of Philippe, the Frenchman drew a loud gasp from Tommy as his hands tugged down his pants and briefs off suddenly in one swift motion; Tommy helping in taking them fully off by lifting up his legs slightly and letting Philippe pull them off, discarding them wherever.

Philippe hummed his approval at Tommy's already leaking cock flying up to his stomach, demanding attention. " _Regardez-vous, tout défait pour moi. Si précieux_." He moved back to Tommy and the rough of his stubble against Tommy's cheek made the Brit pant harder, sweat clinging to his skin as his laboured breaths were swallowed up by Philippe, catching their lips into a passionate kiss. 

Their teeth met, clashing lightly, and Tommy sucked onto Philippe's tongue with a burning devotion and opened his mouth to him, all his moans falling loudly into the kiss. "Oh- P-Philippe, I.." Tommy inhaled harshly, head pounding for air as he'd never felt so alive with the Frenchman's tantalising hands being just so near him. 

" _Oui, je vais vous faire vous sentir bien, je veux que vous vous sentiez bien. Si beau, Tommy_." Philippe breathed, taking in all of Tommy with hooded eyes. Tommy blushed with slight embarrassment at being so bare, only a little bit, legs moving to come up to his chest but Philippe held them still, as he was looking at him like he was a shining diamond. 

" _Non, non, ne soyez pas timide. Si beau mon amour, tu ne vois pas?_ " Philippe praised, hand suddenly curling around Tommy's cock that was all shining with precum. "O-Oh!" Tommy gasped, mind filling up more and more of Philippe, chasing out all shyness and embarrassment; hips bucking and toes curling from the sensation of Philippe's rough calloused hand engulfing him. "P-Philippe, oh G-God.." He moaned, chest heaving. He was so sensitive and he cried out from the slightest of touches, Philippe crashed their lips together again in a winding kiss, bodies hot and sweaty together. 

" _Je t'aime. Ça va bien?_ " He asked, tone quiet and making Tommy shiver, him gently kissing the sensitive skin behind the shell of Tommy's ear and down his neck. "Y-Yes, this is more than okay Philippe, God, I love you too." Tommy forced out quickly, trembling wildly with each stroke. "P-Philippe, I.." Philippe slowed his hand, kissing Tommy carefully and lovingly.

"H-How much do you love me?" He asked, pink lips bruised and raven hair messed up. Philippe smiled gently, the sight the most stunning thing in the whole world, " _Oh, ma chérie, tellement. Tellement, je t'aime tellement. Un montant presque indescriptible_." He answered truthfully and kissed away the tears that slid down the sides of Tommy's face. 

" _Tommy, mon cœur éclate d'amour pour toi._ " Tommy sniffed, cupping Philippe's face and laughing lightly, overcome with emotions that made his eyes sparkle. Philippe rested their foreheads together for a moment, the two caught up in each other, enjoying the closeness and security. 

"And... W-Why do you love me?" Tommy asked with his eyes still closed after a comfortable pause. "Very easy question." Philippe broke from his french continuum, pulling back and gently pushing Tommy a little bit more up the bed while situating himself in between Tommy's spreaded naked legs; the fabric of his still on pants brushing up against the sensitive of Tommy's thighs. 

"But.. I love you because you a-are a brave, s-steadfast, rarity..." Philippe huffed for a moment, racking his brain for words that most suited to what he wanted to say next in English. His mind was filled with so many things as to why he loved Tommy, but they were in nearly unexplainable with the English he knew.

"A-And you kept my life." "You mean saved?" Tommy giggled but bit the inner walls of his mouth as Philippe went for unbuckling his belt, nodding with a chuckle. "T-That's a pretty good answer..." Tommy weakly said, feeling winded and mouth dry. "Yes? I-I am.. limited. Want to confess much more that you understand." 

Tommy groaned, eyes never leaving Philippe's fingers grasping his belt's buckles, "Then show me instead. Please, s-show me, then. We have a-all the time in the world for y-you to learn more and tell me then." Philippe excitedly grinned, " _Bien sûr, Tommy, je vais tout vous donner et tout vous montrer_."

His pants came off fairly quick with Tommy's enthusiastic help, and soon both were bare in front of each other. 

Philippe sighed affectionately, hands mapping up and down Tommy's toned sides, " _Difficile de croire que tu es là, tout pour moi et je suis tout pour toi_." Tommy whimpered, hands covering his mouth and trying not to quake as much as he was, each of Philippe's touches dazing. 

Everything was slow, all Philippe's movements were slow, and it was just right. It was perfect, Tommy didn't think he'd be able to take it if Philippe wasn't innately like a gentle giant. 

" _Merde, je ne peux pas te dire à quel point je t'aime. Laisse moi te montrer, Tommy, laisse moi te montrer combien je t'aime._ " Tommy caught onto the end of Philippe's rushed out French, and felt his heart quicken in excitement, "Please, yes, show me. P-Philippe, please." Philippe bit his lip with a controlled expression, Tommy's trust and letting him lead doing more to him then he let on - _he trusted him, he felt safe enough to do so and Philippe couldn't help his heart soar_ \- as he rocked his hips slowly against Tommy, who gritted his teeth and fisted the bedsheets, arching slightly with a groan.

Philippe breathed heavily, hands right beside Tommy's head, keeping him upright and steady; close and nearly weighing down on Tommy. Their cocks slid roughly together, and both felt nearly incapable of breathing from pleasure. 

" _Putain, putain... Plus?_ " Tommy blinked twice, brain taking a while to catch up and to understand, but once he did, he bit his lower lip and a high pitched whimper was his consent. 

But Philippe paused and rose his hand and unlocked his teeth from his bottom lip with his fingers, a slight frown forming, " _Ça saignera si tu continues à faire ça_." 

If it wasn't for Philippe's cock resting right on the dip of Tommy's stomach, the Brit would've told him off and retorted how it was his fault for making him bite his lips as much as he was, but his cock _was_ resting heavily on his stomach and _was_ very very distracting, so all Tommy could do was obey and look up wide-eyed to him. "P-Philippe.." He resorted to biting his tongue instead.

" _Je vais vous étirer d'abord, oui?_ " Tommy rolled his eyes, question very familiar to him, nodding hastily. He relaxed, body sinking into the bed slightly with his heart hammering against his ribs in anticipation.

Philippe took that as his green light and moved over Tommy, retrieving from the top drawer of their small dresser beside their bed an equally small bottle of olive oil. The purchase of said object was from a conversation with Philippe that left Tommy very flustered; Philippe was concerned with the comfort of him, saliva wasn't enough as that was what they had to use in the war and Philippe remembered each pained expression from him. Their first time using it was a time to remember, but this time also felt so different. 

It was slower than usual, Philippe seemed to be trying to memorise all the dips and roughs of his skin; eyes looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars moved slowly, trekking over him slowly, committing everything to memory. How caring Philippe's eyes looked and the adoring smile that played on his lips made Tommy lose all strength in his limbs. He was truly head over heels for this man and he could _finally_ say it.

Tommy felt his heart jump into his throat in excitement as Philippe moved back to in between his legs; he could feel the Frenchman coating his fingers in the oil. 

" _Prêt?_ " "Mhm!" Tommy didn't trust his voice, knowing it'd break embarrassingly. And the energy he was spending in trying not to come right then and there from Philippe's large yet not imposing figure right over him made forming words nearly impossible. 

He forced his legs and body to relax further, knowing the drill and took in short quick breaths as Philippe gently prodded his index finger inside him. "A-Ah, _mm_..." Tommy propped himself up, quickly busying himself to kissing Philippe, but eyes rolling back and a shuddering breath escaping him into the kiss as Philippe all of a sudden curled the digit inside of him.

Philippe's eyes were trained on him, never leaving, watching every reaction nearly hungrily. " _Dieu, mon petit je te veux_." Tommy dug his nails into Philippe's back as another oil slathered finger gently entered him. His thighs trembled and he curled under Philippe as he started to scissor him apart, his breathing uneven and always getting stuck in his throat. 

"O-Oh my, P-Philippe, I love you." He clung onto Philippe, whose body was blazing with heat, eyes sparkling with the most beautiful of emeralds. All his senses were filled with Philippe, all he could feel, see, smell, or even taste was _Philippe_. And that was how he wanted to always be for the rest of his days. 

" _Je sais, je sais, je te veux aussi. Je t'aime aussi, tellement ma chérie. Bonté, ma beauté, je te veux_." Philippe lifted Tommy's legs above his shoulders, blanketing Tommy with his weight as he slowly and gently loosened him out. 

With his other hand, Philippe resumed stroking Tommy in time with pumping his fingers in and out from him. Tommy gasped, mind never clearer with so much input, tears falling more and trying to cling onto Philippe as much as he could. This adrenaline was so close to the adrenaline he felt at Dunkirk, and yet this time, it wasn't at the price of 'you stop running, you die'. No, it was the adrenaline where if he looked down to Philippe pumping in and out of him and fingers curling around his cock he'd come instantly. 

Tommy could feel the pressure in his gut double, and he pressed his face into Philippe's shoulder, gasping and shuddering. Philippe had to double-take, drinking up the sight of Tommy all undone and trembling under him with just two fingers. 

So he eagerly added a third, slowing his strokes, feeling Tommy close with how the Brit sounded and trembled even more. Now the burn came and Tommy grinded his teeth down, feeling himself stretch, raking his nails down Philippe's back; marks the Brit would apologise profusely after. He shut his eyes, feeling it sharp on his walls, but refused to let his body clench up, focusing more on the pleasure and Philippe's continuous French praise in his ear.

" _Un peu plus, ma chère, pas longtemps maintenant._ " He promised, kissing Tommy's forehead and brushing the hair matted to his forehead with the soft of his forearm. "I-I know... G-God, you're so g-good." Tommy babbled, feeling oh so close but oh so far away too. He was a flushed, red, panting and shaking mess underneath Philippe, already pulled all apart and they hadn't even gotten to the real deal yet.

Precum beaded at the top of Tommy's touch-deprived cock, and each deep but gentle press of Philippe's fingers stuffed in him just brushing up of his prostate made him nearly tip over the edge. But he bit harshly into his knuckles, distracting himself, with tears overflowing and dug his heels into the bed.

" _Cher, je pense que vous êtes prêt maintenant. Tu as si bien fait_." Philippe asked after a few minutes, fingers stilling, situated deep in Tommy's heat. "H-Huh?" Tommy opened his eyes, realising they were closed, and took a few seconds to focus onto Philippe, who was lightly kissing at his collarbone, waiting. 

"W-What'd you say?" " _Oh, mon cher_." Philippe chuckled, realising he had been so out of it he hadn't heard and met Tommy's confused gaze. A part of him preened that he was able to make his lover feel so good.

"Ready, you think?" He asked again, tone hushed and quiet like he was almost shy to ask, placing a chaste kiss onto Tommy's lips. "O-Oh! Fuck, of course! Yes, _please_. I love you." Philippe bobbed his head, " _De même, je t'aime. Mais tu es prêt maintenant?_ " Tommy whimpered with a final nod.

" _D'accord, ma chère, je commence maintenant._ " Philippe said carefully, watching for any signs of sudden fear or apprehension in Tommy's coffee eyes. Tommy huffed, the lull helping him gather his thoughts, "Get on with it you git." Philippe rose an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he doused his hands more in the oil, slowly working himself up. 

His smirk only grew from how _obvious_ Tommy was at trying to be _subtle_ at glancing at him, working himself up.

"Me? Git? Impatient _petite chose_." Tommy breathed out a wry laugh, laying his head back onto the bed for a second, but when he looked back to Philippe - _most likely to retort something more_ \- his eyes widened seeing Philippe's hands on his thighs, familiar cock shining in the oil. 

"O-Oh..." He breathed out, taking in the sight of his legs spread, Philippe all naked and strong in between them; his body burned all the more with tingles rippling all up over his skin, the craving in his gut growing. 

" _Exactement, '_ oh _'_." Philippe grinned with a mocking but playful wave of his hand. "Hurry up and put that in me, I thought you loved me. I may just go to sleep soon if you don't, am getting pretty tired, yeah?" Tommy joked, but tongue heavy at the whole sheer sight of Philippe; and the two both knew that that'd never happen, both too far gone in their fiery passion. 

Philippe chuckled, deciding no more messing around, and brought himself right against Tommy's entrance carefully, making the younger whimper and shake with the feeling. " _Oui, bien sûr je t'aime. Préparez-vous, ma chère. Et dis-moi d'arrêter si tu ne peux pas continuer, d'accord?_ " 

Philippe took a second from Tommy's readying himself and his wavery smile accompanied with a nod, then started to push. Slowly, inch by inch, he nudged in gently, oil doing it's job in making everything as durable as it could be for Tommy. Still, the strain and burn of having something so big inside of him, slowly entering, brought Tommy new tears to his eyes. 

Halfway, Philippe paused, both breathing heavily and kissed Tommy lightly on the lips. "You okay?" He asked through a whisper, skimming a hand up from Tommy's thigh to his face, wiping away the tears. Tommy grunted with a shaky nod and moaned softly, "Yeah, mm, you can go." He latched onto the pleasure rather than the pressure and pain, biting back little sobs as Philippe resumed pushing in.

Not long after, he bottomed out in Tommy, hips meeting; Tommy trembling as badly as ever with such a _good_ pain. The only pain he'd ever be okay with; the war already gave him enough to last him a lifetime. Philippe mindfully adjusted Tommy's legs over his shoulders, pausing at each wince from the Brit.

__

" _Dites-moi quand je peux bouger, ouais?_ " Tommy nodded, knowing the question by heart. He shifted, repositioning from laying on his back a bit, and felt like he was going out of his mind by how prominent and good Philippe was inside him. 

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He clenched experimentally and enjoyed seeing Philippe's sharp intake of breath with wide eyes. He glared at Tommy, though without any true malice, " _Refais-le, je te défie._ " Tommy giggled but was given a taste of his own medicine as Philippe rolled back his hips, making the Brit throw back his head with a long moan.

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"O-Okay, _yeah_ , you c-can move now." Tommy pleaded and Philippe was quick to listen, muttering 'Je t'aime's' in his ear with hot breaths as he started slowly a pace. Philippe was perfect for him, if he wanted more, he'd give him more. Tommy breathed heavily with his body being struck by pleasure, grasping onto Philippe's shoulders, bringing him even closer. "O-Oh God." His throat felt raw at this point but he couldn't help the noises pouring out of him, bucking his hips and Philippe gasped as his walls clenched again harder around him. " _Tellement bon, tu es tellement bon, rien ne sera jamais comparable à toi_."

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Tommy cried, shutting his eyes and zeroing in on Philippe's slow but deep constant pull out and then push right back in. He had a buzzing in his ears but that was overrun by Philippe's constant 'Je t'aime's. He repeated 'I love you's too, mouth hanging open and body jolting from every deep push from Philippe.

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"M-More, _please_ , c-can take it." Tommy sobbed, arms looped around Philippe's neck and forcing his face into the crook of his neck. Philippe blanketed him, covered him, was his heat and was his everything. Right now, he was his whole world and nothing could hurt him, no unwanted memories when all that filled his mind was _Philippe_.

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" _Oui, tout pour toi mon amour_." Philippe rose back and sharply angled his hips to rolling back and out, with deeper but equally gentle thrusts. He knew how to use his hips, making Tommy wonder afterwards how he'd gotten so good or if he was just a natural. He seemed like a natural, their first time in the war he was fumbling and all over the place. Or maybe he was just perfect for him; that was a nicer thought.

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Tommy's reaction and gratitude was instant, having the empowering feeling of being so full and filled and having everything, crying out and letting tears of pleasure roll down his face. 

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" _J'ai l'impression que je ne respirerais pas sans toi_." Tommy nodded barely against Philippe, hands finding their way into his damp locks, tugging him down to a sloppy kiss Tommy knew he couldn't hold on for long, air depleted in his lungs already. It was a constant, Philippe keeping up strong and steady thrusts, to which Tommy went limp from. 

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Philippe wanted nothing more than to show how much he loved Tommy, so he quickened his pace slightly, aiming for what Tommy seemed to love him hit. And from the sudden loud strangled moan from Tommy, and how his previous mumbles of 'I love you' and 'Philippe' turned into strings of loud incomprehensible sounds, Philippe grinned shakily, knowing he found it. Tommy couldn't _breathe_ from Philippe's over and over again hitting of his prostate, he couldn't think except from the phrase 'I love you'; it was a white light in his empty mind. 

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" _S-Tellement bon, incroyable, brilliant, je t'aime tellement mon cher, mon Tommy_..." Philippe slowed for a second, though still striking that spot over and over again, making Tommy whine and clench down. He pulled Tommy's face from his shoulder, cupping his face kindly with a small smile. Tommy had tear tracks all down his face and brown coffee orbs were hazed over with lust, but they cleared at Philippe, flitting over his face with lips parted, little gasps falling through.

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"I love you, Tommy." Philippe uttered, holding back his own groans, looking to Tommy, his whole world that gave him everything he had, and quickened, determined to making Tommy feel as good as he possibly could. "P-Philippe, I love you so m-much." It was the first thing he'd said for some time and his voice was pained and raspy but he smiled anyways, new hot tears streaming down. 

__

It was like a white hectic fire that grew in Tommy, resounding and brightening with every deep, powerful, still slow and loved-filled thrust from Philippe, and he fell slack as Philippe kept him tight against him and resumed, dependent entirely on his arms and body keeping him in place. He needed release, his throat was constricted and spots creeped up in his vision. 

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"P-Philippe..." Tommy moaned desperately and loudly, so goddamn close, wanting Philippe to come in him, wanting everything he had to give. Philippe choked out a response, sounding _so_ close too and Tommy felt it with his falling out of rhythm thrusts. Philippe snaked a hand into the minuscule space between them and stroked Tommy in time with himself, going not faster but bolder. "Y-Yes, fuck, I-I'm so close, Philippe." " _Moi aussi... putain de merde... je t'aime tellement, j'ai besoin de toi, je t'adore, je veux que tu te sentes formidable._." Philippe panted with a moan, slamming down. 

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Tommy was on cloud nine and it was _perfect_ , he felt like he screamed out Philippe's name but his world was doused in white noise and it felt like he was disconnected for a second; only feeling Philippe. His blunt nails dug into Philippe and his muscles spasmed, locking down and freeing up as he started to crash down and down, keening out in warning as how close he was. 

__

He couldn't take it anymore, not with his body jerking from Philippe's still controlled thrusts, not with being sandwhich between the bed and him, not with Philippe suddenly rubbing over the slit of his head with the pad of his thumb. Breathlessly, he crashed their lips together in one final kiss, finally gone over, white in his vision and white spurting onto Philippe's hand which didn't seem like it wanted to retract.

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His body trembled like a leaf from his continuing climax, hands on Philippe's neck and keeping their faces together, still letting out noises of pleasure as Philippe's thrusts and strokes guided him further into his falling. He could feel how close Philippe was, how the Frenchman was gasping for breath ontop of him over how tightly he clenched down on his cock, and an idea popped into Tommy's brain on how to get him over the edge too. 

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" _Philippe_ , j-je t'aime." His British accent most likely butchered the whole phrase, and it rested weirdly on his tongue, but Philippe nearly stopped working completely, brain short-circuiting from hearing his native language on Tommy's tongue.

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" _Tommy_." "P-Please, je t'aime," He continued, rolling his hips against Philippe, "m-make me yours, P-Philippe, feels s-so good." He begged, tightening his legs around Philippe to keep him as close as possible, cock throbbing still and dripping out. This was a side of him only Philippe would ever see, and a side that would only ever come out here; desire overrunning any logic. 

__

Philippe hung his mouth open slightly, stunned as he looked onto Tommy, and newfound energy seemed to take place in him as he started his pace again with new vigour and intense thrusts into him; loud, choked breaths escaping Tommy from how over sensitive he was, but loving it. 

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Philippe jammed his hips deeply into Tommy with a loud reverberating groan in his sweat shining chest, digging into his golden spot, satisfyingly grinning at Tommy's surprised and dirty moan, falling into bliss a second time. " _Si jolie, tu as si bien fait_." He praised, continuing to go, helping Tommy through his next climax. Tommy opened his mouth, wanting to say _anything_ , but just couldn't, being too weak to. He didn't expect that, and it felt like lightning rippling underneath his skin.

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It crashed down on him over and over again, his cock nearly hurt from how hard he was coming, as Philippe was still going. He trembled, quaked, from the force of it all, and all he could think about was how much he loved the Frenchman. And Philippe was at his end too, with the sight of Tommy, all flushed and undone below him, locked into him, nearly drooling and eyes rolling back from how good he was sending him crazy. _He_ did this, he made Tommy feel this good, he succeeded in showing just how much he loved him, and he slammed down one last time, body shaking as he emptied himself within Tommy.

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Tommy whined, still unable to form anything coherent, his two climaxes blowing his mind out of proportion, shutting his eyes and relishing in the feeling of Philippe. All of Philippe's low grunts in his ear made his cock go nearly hard again but for the life of him he didn't have the energy to. He loved this feeling, out of breath and over sensitive, having himself being filled up. There was nothing else quite like it in the world that could compare.

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Philippe collapsed on top of Tommy when he was all spent, cock still sheathed deeply inside him. "T-Tommy..." He nuzzled Tommy's cheek, wanting to get a reaction out from him; who was looking a bit dazed. "Mm.." Tommy caught his breath and blinked, slowly unraveling his iron grip on Philippe's waist with his legs and on his shoulders from his hands. He lowered his body from clinging to Philippe and lay sprawled underneath him, chest heaving. "Tommy..." Philippe murmured again softly, panting but trying to regulate his rapidly beating heart. 

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Tommy smiled slowly, wincing slightly as that pulled at his bruised lips, yet he felt just as alive as the ache in his arse came to be known. "H-Hey Philippe..." He giggled, loving the afterglow. Philippe cast a shadow down onto his face and his eyes wouldn't leave from looking up to him; with sweat on his forehead and a tired smile set on his lips, Philippe'd never looked more handsome.

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"Mm, my Tommy." Philippe nuzzled again into Tommy, gently carressing his skin and face, fingers tracing the flowering lovemarks made previously, adorning Tommy's chest. "My Philippe." Tommy reciprocated and Philippe could only nod with a grin. His fingers traced all the marks slowly, almost like he was making sure they were okay to be there.

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They might've gazed into each other's eyes for God knows long, if it wasn't for Philippe's shift making Tommy tear his eyes away and grit his teeth. "Oh, sorry, dear." He apologised with that same 'surri' and they laughed together, funny how for a split second they'd completely forgotten about what they'd just done. Philippe kept Tommy distracted with a gentle kiss as he pulled out carefully, rubbing circles into his hips. 

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"Ah... Love how you feel in me." Tommy teased, seeming to be completely recollected now, through his slightly lesser shaking hands, his clearer eyes, and his softer spoken tone; now gravelly sounding, nothing a good nights sleep wouldn't fix. Philippe blushed darkly, unable to stop himself from looking down to Tommy, indeed seeing himself leaking out from him. 

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" _J'étais assez bien pour toi, oui?_ " "You have to be kidding me. Was me not _screaming_ out your name not enough?" Philippe ducked his head, embarrassed but prideful. "But yes, you were more than good. You were brilliant, I love you." "I love you, too." Philippe rested his head on Tommy's chest for a minute, contentedly meeting Tommy's kindly tired eyes, before moving to get up.

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Tommy made a noise of indignation, pulling at his wrists to keep him down. "W-Where're you going?" He asked, but his eyes flickered fear for a moment. Philippe caught on, like he always did, and smiled reassuringly, "Clean up. Don't you want go to sleep?" He motioned to the mess smeared on both of their stomachs and abdomen and the night sky showing from the window, making Tommy's face heat up; relaxing his grip on Philippe's wrists, defeated. Philippe made a playful 'aww' sound, mock pitying the Brit, before sitting up and looking around for anything to wipe them down. 

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"H-Here." Tommy reached down from their low hanging bed with considerable effort, body burnt out, picking up an old shirt off from the ground. Philippe shrugged and took it; it was better than nothing.

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It wasn't long before Philippe was satisfied in his aftercare of Tommy, something he wasn't able to do as thoroughly as he'd liked in the war, and he tossed the used shirt back onto the ground - _they'd wash it later_ -, laying down onto his side and pulling Tommy into his arms. Tommy smiled tiredly, slowly adjusting his body to fit right next to Philippe, who wrapped his arms around him once he was positioned. 

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"I love you." Tommy said after a while, nestled into Philippe for warmth; neither really had the effort in them to get up and get under the sheets. Philippe looked up from his hair, stroking down along his face to his neck with his palm. "I love you, too." He mumbled, pressing gentle kisses against his hair, slowly massaging his legs and hips; knowing they'd be starting to hurt. 

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Their bodies cooled down, sweat drying, but they found warmth in each other. The kerosene lamp was dimming, a sign that they'd need to refill it with oil, casting the room into a soft light of oranges and yellows. Tommy rested his head on Philippe, going through everything in his mind, committing it all to memory.

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" _Je resterai à tes côtés, pour toujours. Viens la guerre, et tout ira bien._ " Tommy smiled, staying silent and looking up to the ceiling contentedly. Philippe stroked his chest, a calm in the stillness, " _Tout ira bien pour nous. Je vais te protéger, je suis désolé pour pas avant_." "It's okay. We didn't know each other back then." Tommy gently reassured, craning his head back and kissing him lightly on the lips; a domestic privilege neither would ever be able to get over.

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Philippe hummed, thinking, but threw away the thoughts as he saw how tired Tommy was. If he didn't care and said it was fine, then it must've be fine. " _Je t'aime_.." He whispered, closing his eyes and holding Tommy tight against him, who followed and snuggled further into him. "Love you, too..." Tommy was exhausted, satisfied, and sated; all he wanted to do now was sleep in the arms of his lover. 

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The war didn't matter right now. No, Tommy smiled, the only thing it contributed to that held something worthy to acknowledge was bringing them together. He would of most likely not met Philippe if it weren't for Dunkirk, wouldn't of seen the sad and scared eyes of the weirdly silent soldier. 

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In three weeks, they'd have to return to the war. So, for three weeks, Philippe would do everything to show his love and gratitude for Tommy. He relished in this, basked in having the Brit so warm and safe in his arms, and he'd have to do this again and again. He hated the war, it would seperate them, hurt them, but now he had a better reason to fight and survive. 

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Tommy fell into his soft breathing patterns Philippe recongised as him falling asleep, and the Frenchman smiled, heart blooming from how adorable he looked all curled up, kissing atop his head. 

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Alex was right, he did get a pretty good catch. 

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**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it! i may make more little one shots like this, who knows, and if any of you guys have ideas, just comment them down below!
> 
> stay safe and stay quarantined ❤️


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